


treat

by YouAreMyDesign



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Collars, Come Eating, Dogboy Will Graham, Dogboys & Doggirls, Inanimate Objects, M/M, Masturbation, Pillow Fucking, Praise Kink, Young Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:42:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22580431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouAreMyDesign/pseuds/YouAreMyDesign
Summary: "Will's job is to keep you both safe when you go running around like wildlings," his mother tells them, straightening and dusting off her skirts. "Take good care of him."
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 23
Kudos: 298





	treat

His name is Will. He shows up one day at the heel of Hannibal's mother, wild hair already knotted and cheeks streaked with mud. He's a hunting dog mix, with a square, powerful jaw, short and angular ears almost buried to the point of uselessness in his mane of hair, his canines a little too sharp and his claws a little too long.

The collar around his neck is wide and covers most of it, so that he doesn't get injured should he get into a fight with another animal while he's doing his job. He's skinny, not like a Russian bear hunter, or thick with fur like a Caucasian shepherd. No excess fur, but a powerful tail that starts wagging the first time he sees Hannibal.

Hannibal has never particularly cared for animals. They are useful, for labor or protection or meat. Mischa likes to go chasing butterflies, eager to catch them in her meaty little hands and admire the iridescence on their wings. Hannibal has entertained himself more than once carefully catching and dissecting insects he finds in his room.

Will is the first hybrid Hannibal has ever gotten close enough to touch. They're normally pretty but altogether ornamental, in his experience; little fluffy mixes, predominantly female, of miniature poodles with their curly hair and high yipping barks, or slinky shorthairs that spend more time pawing at their masters' legs and begging for treats. When it comes to things like hunting, or protection, the purebred animals are favored; the less human they are, the more easily tamed.

Will's eyes are a pretty blue and shine with intelligence. Hannibal's mother leads Will up to Hannibal and Mischa, kneels down by him and puts a hand in his hair, tutting and pulling free a loose twig.

"Will," she says, and gestures her children forward. Mischa lifts her hand for Will to sniff, and Will plants his face straight into her palm, making her giggle. He licks over her thumb and nuzzles her wrist, his tail wagging happily and a rumble in his throat.

His mother looks to him expectantly, a fine brow arched, and Hannibal sighs, offering his hand as well. Will is more cautious with him, immediately, lowering his head and gently butting his forehead to Hannibal's knuckles. Unbidden, Hannibal smiles.

"Will's job is to keep you both safe when you go running around like wildlings," his mother tells them, straightening and dusting off her skirts. "Take good care of him."

Hannibal hums. He wants to argue, because he's perfectly capable of taking care of Mischa on his own, but there's something to be said for having a creature that's more expendable than he is. Will blinks up at him, on his toes and knuckles, favoring the hunched ape-like posture of hybrids.

Mischa falls in love with him immediately. "Will!" she calls, drawing his attention, and the dogboy barks, low and rough in greeting, dipping his head as she immediately starts petting over his cheeks and through his hair. He's smiling, tail thumping against the floor, a happy wriggle moving his entire body as he lips at her dress and submits easily to her exploring hands.

Hannibal looks to his mother, seeing her smiling down at the pair of them, and huffs. At least Will doesn't have enough fur to start shedding everywhere.

Despite the fact that Mischa lavishes Will with attention, he seems to have imprinted primarily on Hannibal. He follows Hannibal around constantly, a silent loping shadow, only giving the occasional curious whine as he sits and watches Hannibal study, or write, or compose his music. Hannibal will admit, he's grown accustomed to Will's warmth at his leg, the dogboy resting with his hair tickling Hannibal's arm as Hannibal sits to his studies.

Hannibal enjoys solitude, only truly going out of his way to break it when his sister demands his attention, but Will is unassuming, never begging for Hannibal's attention, merely content to sit and keep watch. He sleeps in the hallway between the two siblings' rooms, on his wide and comfortable dog bed, but he's always awake when Hannibal goes to bed, always up before he rises.

He doesn't like the groundskeeper. Whenever Hannibal is outside, as he often is when the weather is pleasant, Will snaps his teeth and snarls at the man whenever he can see him, entire body tense and staring at him with a predator's eye. Hannibal smiles, watching Will, and wonders if it would take merely a word for Will to spring into action, to hunt and lunge and rip to shreds. Will has not shown anything but a mild manner, an even temperament, but he clearly hates that man. Hannibal is curious to see if he could push Will to act.

He drops a hand to Will's head, gently kneading at one of his soft, velvet-like ears. Will purrs for him immediately, tail thumping steady and slow against the ground, eyelids lowering as he turns and rests his cheek on Hannibal's thigh.

"Will," he murmurs, and Will blinks up at him, bright-eyed and panting. Hannibal smiles. "Good boy."

Will lets out a plaintive, sweet little whine, turns his head and nuzzles Hannibal's forearm. He doesn't speak; he understands the language well enough, to know 'Sit' and 'Stay' and 'Heel', but he doesn't speak. He probably lacks the structure of his vocal cords to allow it. Most hybrids aren't bred to communicate.

Hannibal scratches down his spine, watching as Will arches up into the touch, another soft sound pulled from deep in his chest. He dips his fingers beneath Will's collar and slides it an inch to the left, rubbing over the tender, warm skin beneath, and Will sighs happily, smiling up at him, simple animal joy making him wriggle.

Hannibal wakes at the sound of a fierce growl and a loud yelp. He rises, hurrying from his room, to find the groundskeeper clutching at his thigh, staggering away from Will and from the entrance to Mischa's bedroom. Will has blood in his jaws and coating his fingers, he's hunched and snarling, glaring at the groundskeeper as the man stumbles to a halt at Hannibal's arrival.

Hannibal tilts his head. "What are you doing here?"

"Your fucking mutt bit me!" the man replies.

"That doesn't answer my question," Hannibal says coolly, folding his arms across his chest. Will is still snarling, loud, deep sounds that feel like they should make the ground shake. The man glares at Will again, and wipes a hand over his brow.

"I…"

"Why are you trying to get into my sister's room in the first place?" Hannibal demands. The groundskeeper, by the very merit of his job, has no place in the upper floors where the rest of the servants go. Before the man can answer, Will lunges for him, making him cry out in terror and stagger another step back.

"I -. I wasn't -!"

"Will seems to think you were, and he knows better than to attack someone unprovoked," Hannibal says. "You shouldn't be up here at all. You'd best leave, before I choose to let him finish the job."

The man glares at him, upper lip curling back. "You don't know what you're saying," he hisses. Hannibal's brows rise. "I don't like your tone, young man. I've worked for your family for -."

"Will," Hannibal says lightly, and turns to smile at his pet. "Bite."

Will lunges immediately, clawing at the man's belly and teeth finding his neck, easily severing the carotid artery as he parts his jaws and bites down. The man doesn't even have time to scream before he falls to the ground, choking on his own blood. Will tears at him like a beast, claws easily severing through his clothes and flesh and hands shoved by the fist into his stomach cavity as he rips the man's throat out.

Hannibal smiles, and goes to Mischa's room, opening the door to peer inside and making sure she's still asleep. She slumbers on, blissfully unaware. He closes the door and turns to find Will gripping the man's head, blood soaked into every part of him, and twists with a savage yank, snapping the man's spine and biting down until he can rip out the man's larynx and a hearty chunk of his esophagus.

Will pulls up when Hannibal clicks his tongue, teeth crunching down on his prize. He climbs off the man with a small huff, tail wagging when he sees Hannibal smiling. Hannibal approaches him, uncaring for the pool of blood, and holds his hand out.

"Drop it," he murmurs, and Will obediently leans in, delicately releasing the bloody cartilage into Hannibal's palm. Hannibal's smile is wide, and he kneels down, petting through Will's red, wet hair. "Good boy."

Will whines, licking his lips.

"You can't eat it, Will; who knows where he's been." If Will understands the specifics of what he's saying, he doesn't show it, merely blinks in acceptance and turns his head so he can arch up into Hannibal's petting hand.

Hannibal stands, discarding the bloody mess on top of the man's chest. He clicks his tongue, bidding Will follow him, and finds one of the night servants dusting outside his parent's room. She blinks at him, wide-eyed, lets out a soft gasp at Will's bloody state.

"Master Hannibal, are you alright?" she says.

"Perfectly fine," he assures her. "But Will left quite a mess outside Mischa's room. Would you mind making sure it's clean before sunrise? I don't want her to see it."

"Yes, yes, of course," the servant replies, nodding frantically and wringing her hands. She looks at Will like he's a monster, and it makes Hannibal smile, for Will is purring and licking tenderly at his bloody fingers, his tail wagging and bright eyes fixed on Hannibal, seeking approval and affection.

"Come, Will," Hannibal commands, and leads Will towards the bathroom. Will huffs in displeasure, enough animal in him to balk at the idea of getting a bath, but he's unresisting as Hannibal rids him of his blood-soaked clothes, until he's crouched, naked and red, his ears perked up to await Hannibal's next order.

"You deserve a reward for that, dear boy," Hannibal tells him, turning on the faucet and flooding the tub with steaming water. He gestures for Will to get in, and Will does, shaking himself off before he even submerges completely. Hannibal huffs a laugh, tapping his chin in warning. "Stay still."

It's not the first bath he's given Will, since he's the one big enough between him and Mischa to wrangle such a large animal should Will put up too much of a fuss. Will huffs in displeasure, but knows to be quiet and still as Hannibal kneels down, wetting a cloth, and begins to clean Will's pale, smooth skin. He really is quite lovely, human enough to be beautiful, a fine-tuned machine that willingly submits and responds to every one of Hannibal's commands.

Will eyes him, lashes low, a purr in his chest and his tail wagging slowly, tapping against the edges of the tub. He sinks to his hands and knees, tilts his head to let Hannibal wash his face, and then down his arms. He takes one of Will's hands and thoroughly cleans what's left of the blood from one, then the other, and shifts his weight to give Will's legs and feet the same attention.

Will is clean before the tub is filled, and he pulls the plug and shuts off the water, standing and grabbing a towel. "Come," he commands, and Will prowls from the tub, shaking himself off, muscles shivering in an attempt to rid himself of water. Hannibal towels his hair, first, and works the towel beneath his collar since he understands that it would be uncomfortable to trap water there.

Will's nostrils flare as he looks up, Hannibal standing once he's dry and hanging the towel up. He pauses, as Will crawls forward and presses his nose to Hannibal's thigh, breathing in again. A soft, plaintive noise escapes him, his fingers curling around Hannibal's ankle and drawing himself closer so his thighs frame Hannibal's foot.

He lifts his brows, looking down at Will as he starts panting, tongue licking and dampening Hannibal's clothes. Close, and warm enough, that he feels it on his cock. Feels himself, despite knowing Will is an animal and therefore shouldn't be a subject of lust, starting to react.

"Will," he murmurs, one hand curling in the dogboy's wet, fluffy hair.

Will growls, his cock growing hard and leaking already, rutting over the top of Hannibal's slipper-clad foot, butting slick against his ankle. He blinks up at Hannibal, makes a rough noise. Clears his throat and tries again.

The noise he makes sounds like the word 'Good'? High, rough, a question. Begging for approval.

He kneels down, robbing Will of his source of friction, and smiles when Will whines in helpless need. His eyes are dark, pupils big and black with only a thin ring of blue around them. His upper lip twitches to reveal those sharp, bloody teeth.

"You were very good, Will," he purrs, watching as his pet's lashes flutter, he sags against Hannibal and paws gracelessly at his biceps. Hannibal's hand is still in Will's hair, tugs gently to feel how Will eagerly lets his neck go lax and trusting, no instinct in him at all to defend his neck or fight back.

He's sweet and shivering and warm. "Do you want a treat?" Hannibal murmurs. Will blinks up at him, puffs out a little breath. He probably doesn't understand that word. Hannibal smiles, and reaches between Will's strong thighs, gently wrapping his fingers around the mushroom head of Will's cock and giving it a light squeeze.

Will gasps, eyes widening, nostrils flaring as he blows out a heavy breath. It becomes a whine almost immediately, and he twists and writhes in Hannibal's grip, fighting the pull on his hair, chasing the pressure on his cock.

Hannibal tilts his head, studying him curiously. If Will had the intelligence and gift of speech to allow it, he would ask if this is a product of his kill. If Will likes it, finds arousal, in the taste of blood and the feeling of a man losing his soul between his teeth. If Will enjoys, conversely, the simple pleasure of serving Hannibal and earning his approval. The relative intelligence of dogboys might conclude Will is simply going into his species' mature breeding season.

Hannibal doesn't know. He supposes the details don't much matter.

Still, it will be interesting, should the opportunity ever present itself a second time, to see if Will reacts the same way.

He doesn't go so far as to stroke Will's cock. Will is an animal, after all, and the idea of teasing him or drawing out pleasure with any concerted effort doesn't seem worth his time. But Will was good, and as a result, deserves to get a reward.

He releases Will, and stands, gripping his hair tightly when Will shivers and whines. "Stay," he commands, and Will blinks up at him plaintively, ears gone low and tail drooping in anxiety, worried that Hannibal intends to abandon him or scold him for his behavior. "I'll be back in a moment, Will. Stay."

Will wets his lips, and settles on his haunches. Hannibal leaves the bathroom and goes to his room, noting that two servants have already started the work of cleaning up – the body is gone, though the bloodstain remains. They will be scrubbing all night from the look of things.

Hannibal inherited his father's physique. He grew slowly and remained willowy until the most recent years, when muscle came to him as easily as speech and he shot up another fifteen centimeters. As a result, he has a lot of clothes he cannot wear anymore, that could not be salvaged by his mother's sewing skills nor her whimsical penchant for using fabric for whatever strikes her fancy.

He gathers one of his old shirts and a pair of trousers he stopped wearing even before his growth spurt, and gathers a pillow from the window seat that gives him a view of the garden. Will has dozed with him here often, curled up in a patch of sunlight and watching Hannibal work.

He smiles, affection blooming in his chest as he thinks of his pet. He sits, and slices a slit in the pillow, lining it on the inside with a leg of his trousers, which he cuts free and ties in a knot at the end, so the wider part sticks out and Will won't chafe his cock on the coarse stuffing. He wraps the pillow with his shirt, because Will seems to like his scent, and ties the sleeves around the back to both secure the garment and give Will something to grip and use.

In the end, what he has is an overstuffed cushion, sheathed on the inside with soft fabric, and covered with his shirt so the outside is relatively non-abrasive as well. Satisfied, he stands, and returns to Will, who remains just as Hannibal left him, panting and obedient. He gives a soft whine when Hannibal enters, and Hannibal closes the door behind him.

"Stand," he commands softly. Will whines, his fingers flexing against the floor, and pushes himself to his feet, slow and unsteady. He's not used to standing at his full height, and even on two feet, he stands hunched, fingers curling anxiously at being so high up.

Hannibal smiles, and comes behind him, turning Will so that he's facing the mirror. He puts the pillow on the counter in front of Will, nuzzling his nape as Will pants, staring at him in the mirror. His ears are perked up at attention, tip of his tail drumming wildly against Hannibal's thigh, as Hannibal pushes his fingers into the slit and spreads it wide.

"Go on," he purrs, bringing the pillow close to where Will is still hard, leaking steadily from the tip of his cock. Will's hips twitch, his hands wrapping around the edges of the pillow, and he stares, wide-eyed, down at it, as Hannibal removes his fingers, grips Will's cockhead, and helps him keep the pillow steady as he gently guides Will inside it.

Will snarls, baring his bloody teeth, and grips the pillow tightly, holding it hard and tight to the counter as he forces his cock inside it. It bulges at the top from his cock, and Will tilts his head back, lashes fluttering closed as he breathes out heavily and starts a fast, rabbiting rhythm, growling relentless and low as he fucks and mounts the pillow.

Hannibal smiles, pleased that Will is enjoying his gift so much. He hums, nuzzling Will's collar, absently flicking a finger over one of his dark nipples. Will yelps when he does it, eyes wide and fixed on Hannibal's reflection.

"Good?" Hannibal asks.

Will nods, lips parting around a wordless whine.

Hannibal's smile widens, and he reaches around Will, pushing his hand down on the center of the pillow, giving Will more pressure. Will whimpers, nostrils flared wide, his knuckles white as he grabs at the pillow until their fingers meet around it, and Hannibal can feel Will's cock moving inside it, thick and hard and friction warming the fabric.

Will goes still, after a moment, whimpering, lifting to his toes and haunches tensed up as he twitches, teeth bared, and comes inside the slit Hannibal made. He ruts his hips, fucking deeper into it, and Hannibal sighs contentedly as he feels the warmth and wetness of Will's come dampening his palm.

Will sags with another sweet sound, breathing hard, hair dripping with sweat. Hannibal pulls back and lets Will recover, his pet sinking back down to a crouch, and then his knees, the pillow still clinging wet to his cock. Hannibal leans down and eases it off, and pulls the sheath free, admiring how heavy it is, dripping from the knot he tied at the end.

He sets it to one side, making a note to himself to empty it and add it to his laundry, later, and freezes when Will crawls up to him, planting his cheek on Hannibal's thigh and nuzzling his own cock, a soft purr rumbling in his chest, his tail wagging slowly from side to side. He's low-lidded and red-cheeked, panting hot and damp on Hannibal's half-hard cock.

He looks up. "Good?" he rasps.

Hannibal hums. The temptation, the curiosity, is overwhelming. He shoves his pants down and grips his cock, Will's warm breath a delicious counterpoint to the tightness of his own fist as he strokes himself to full hardness. Will's eyes turn black, he licks his lips, close enough that Hannibal gets a single, hot brush of his tongue.

He groans, and fists a hand in Will's hair. "Open," he growls, and Will obeys with another soft noise, tongue reached out to lap at Hannibal's knuckles and cockhead. He's mindful of Will's fangs, and so doesn't push his cock inside Will's tempting mouth, sure that the animal doesn't understand enough about it to keep his teeth sheathed.

Will's food and water bowl are in the bathroom, he eats away from the rest of the family and at different times, because Hannibal does not tolerate his pet begging for scraps. He kneels down and tugs Will's food bowl towards him, grunting as he angles his cock and comes into it, a thick pool of come staining the inside as he works himself through his orgasm.

Will moans at the sight, breathing in deeply like he might scent an offering of food. When Hannibal is done, he sighs, and nudges the bowl with his fingers.

Will collapses to his elbows and knees, leans down, and laps at Hannibal's come with sloppy, loud slurping noises. Hannibal smiles, petting through his hair, over his delicate and soft ears as Will takes his treat eagerly, tail wagging so hard he hits the cabinet and the opposite wall with rhythmic thumps.

He settles with another sigh, watching Will with a fond smile. Certainly an unforeseen turn of events tonight, but a remarkably pleasant one. He pets Will as Will eats, until the bowl is licked clean, and Will rubs his hands over his mouth to catch everything he missed before, sucking on his fingers, lashes low and throat rumbling with an excited, pleased purr.

When Will has finished, Hannibal takes the damp towel from the rack, and dabs his face clean. Will wriggles, a happy whine spilling from his mouth, and leans in, nuzzling Hannibal's shoulder and chest, pawing at his thighs.

Hannibal smiles, and wraps a hand in Will's hair, as his heart slows and his lungs regain their rhythm. "Good boy," he murmurs, and Will gazes at him with such open, simple adoration. "Very good boy, Will. I'm so proud of you."

Will hums, and licks Hannibal's wrist, before he settles at Hannibal's side, curled up as he so-often has, content to wait until Hannibal is ready to rise, and return to bed. Perhaps he'll let Will sleep at the foot of his bed, now, with his pillow, so that he can give Will another treat come morning. It seems like fair payment, after all, for being such a loyal and obedient pet.


End file.
